Monday, January 1, 2024

January 1: "Musical Tables," Year of Billy Collins, Musical Chairs

Welcome to the first day of the new year, when people start new diets and exercise regimens.  Resolutions are still in full vigor, and the world seems fresh and new as clean socks.

Having lived in Mary Oliver's universe for the entirety of 2023, it's difficult to step away from her daily doses of grace and wisdom now.  There was something very comforting being in Mary's company for that long--it was almost like a 365-day spiritual/poetic retreat.

This year, I turn to another poet whose work is just as popular as Oliver's.  In fact, I would venture to guess that his name is possibly known even by people who really aren't into poetry.  This poet was once described as "the most popular poet in America" by Bruce Weber in The New York Times.  He served as U. S. Poet Laureate from 2001 to 2003 and was named New York State Poet Laureate from 2004 to 2006.

Now, because of this popularity, he's frequently dismissed as sentimental and easy.  I don't necessarily agree with this assessment.  Yes, his poems are incredibly accessible, and that may be the reason he isn't taken very seriously.  However, as you will discover in the coming days, his poems are many things--funny, ordinary, profound, extraordinary--but they are certainly not lightweight in any way.

The 2024 Poet of the Year for Saint Marty is . . . Billy Collins.

I'm starting this journey with the title poem of one of Collins' most recently collections, Musical Tables . . .

Musical Tables

by:  Billy Collins

No one knew what to do
when the music stopped,
plus, the big tables were always in the way.

But soon it became the new game
in spite of its pointlessness,
or was that the reason for its popular appeal?


Most of us have played Musical Chairs at some point in our lives.  That object of the game is pretty simple:  once the music stops, grab a chair.  If you don't end up sitting in one of the available chairs, you lose.  A seat is removed then, and the music begins again.  One-by-one, participants disappear until only one chair and two people are left, and then Musical Chairs becomes a blood sport.  

Billy Collins changes things up in his poem.  Instead of competing for places to sit, it's all about ending up at the last table.  A pointless exercise, according to the poet, but also an exercise that's full of laughter and enjoyment.

Maybe Collins is creating a metaphor for writing or reading verse.  In a practical world, there's really no intrinsic value in poetry, no matter how well-crafted the poem.  Yet, when the music/poetry starts, everyone dances/circles the table, now knowing where they will end up.

It is January 1st, and the music of the new year has begun.  Listen carefully and start walking.  Perhaps you will find yourself in a place magical and new--like an unopened stocking on Christmas morning.

Saint Marty welcomes you to the Year of Billy Collins.  Pull up a chair to the table and have a seat.



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